| They say the world’s an eventful place
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| You give me news
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| I don’t want to know
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| You say that I should care
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| That I should speak my mind
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| Oh, but how can I speak of the world
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| Pushing by With a lump in my throat
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| And tears in my eyes
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| Have we come to the point of no turning back
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| Or is it still time to get into
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| The swing of things
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| Let us walk through this windless city
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| I’ll go on till the winter gets me Sleep… you wrote sleep, my dear
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| In a letter somewhere
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| Oh, but how can I sleep with your voice in my head
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| And an ocean between us And room in my bed
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| Have I come to the point where I’m loosing the grip
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| Or is it still time to get into
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| The swing of things
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| When she glows in the dark
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| And I’m weak by the sight
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| Of this breathtaking beauty
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| In which I can hide
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| There is a worldful out there
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| Of people I fear
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| But given time I’ll get into
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| The swing of things
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| Yes, when she glows in the dark and I’m struck by the sight
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| I know that I’ll need this for the rest of my life
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| What have I done
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| What lies I have told
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| I’ve played games with the ones that rescued my soul
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| Have I come to the point where I’m losing the grip
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| Or is it still time to get into
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| The swing of things |